Come Home
by The Yellow Rubber Ducky
Summary: May Castellan was alive somewhere in that body, but her son wasn't willing to see it. Story of May and Luke's relationship.


**AN: Another One Shot.**

**Inspired by One Republic's "Come Home".**

**

* * *

**

**_"Come home, come home.  
Cause I've been waiting for you,  
For so long, for so long.  
And right now there's a war between the vanities,  
But all I see is you and me.  
The fight for you is all I've ever known,  
So come home"_**

**_

* * *

_**May Castellan missed her son.

Her _real_ son. Not Nico or Percy or any of the other boys she has mistaken for her lovely, wonderful Luke.

The little boy she gave birth to, what-- eighteen, twenty years ago-- was gone.

Her strong subconcious was struggling for control of her moggled mind, fighting for the ability to think right again. But every time it starts getting closer, it just-- slips through her fingers like a bar of soap. She takes one step forward, and a million steps back.

Her anchor that she holds for that one vital moment is strangely blue, like her son's eyes. She can see those marvelous orbs, reflecting the light just right, like his father's eyes. But that light, like her bar of soap, slips away, and fear and angry masks the ray of hope trying to shine through the dark, heavy blue clouds.

* * *

"Get away from me!"

Luke's young, scared voice hurts her heart. Her messed up mind twists things. How come he hates me?, it asks. But in her real mind, the one she had before that horrible incident with the Oracle of Delphi, is sobbing hysterically.

Luke runs into the closet, and something tells her to not follow. She can hear soft whimpers of her seven year old son through the dark brown door, and for one second, she grasps control, now, of all times, when her son can't hear her.

"I'm sorry, Luke," she whispers, horrified.

Then the Oracle takes over again, and the sobs get louder. Louder and louder, until they become screams.

* * *

"Luke? Honey? Where are you?" she asks quietly, but her voice seems to carry throughout the Connecticut home.

"Luke?"

She reaches his room, violently pushing the door back. She looks at his bed, and it appears that he is under the covers. A smile forms at her lips as her Oracle mind is relieved that her son is there. She reaches over, pulling the covers from the bed.

She shrieks.

In the place of her son, there are pillows.

"NO!" she screams.

Outside, watching from the window, Luke Castellan is standing, tears running down his face.

"You monster," he mutters, and runs away, his cloth bag over his shoulder.

* * *

She hums as she coats the burnt toast with peanut butter. She reaches for the jelly, which is over two years old.

She sets the sandwich on the plate, and carries it to the table.

There are already hundreds of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, piled on top of each other. "Luke!" she calls up the stairs. No reply. She laughs. "Silly little boy. He has no manners."

She goes to the refrigerator, pulling out a pitcher of KoolAid, which is nearly black from mold. She doesn't seem to notice, though. Mrs. Castellan brings the pitcher to the table, and goes to the stairs.

"Your lunch will be waiting for you, dear."

* * *

"Luke!" she squeals.

The man in front of her-- her son-- cringes as he recalls the horrid memories he has had with his mother.

"Hello, Mother," he says coldly. She reaches for him, but he backs up, out of her reach. He roughly pushes her hands away.

_Luke_, cries her subconscious.

"I'm here to ask you a favor," he continues, not hiding his anger. She nearly leaps out of her clothes.

"Of course, dearie! Anything for you," she vows. Luke nods, his jaw clenched in anger, trying to keep all his angry curses in his head. "So, what do you want?" she asks, setting a moldy PB&J sandwich in front of him.

"I need your blessing."

Her eyes widened in surprise. This is not what she is expecting.

"O-of course," she says. She puts a hand on his arm, and it takes all of Luke's willpower not to shrug away. Suddenly, she jerks back, tightening her grip on his arm. Luke is startled.

_"MY SON! NO, PLEASE! NOT MY LITTLE BOY!"_ she screams in fear.

"Gah!" Luke yells. His chair falls back behind him, the crack ringing through the small house. Suddenly, the silence is deafening. *"Κατάρα σας, Μητέρα!" Luke spits, and May recoils in shock.

But she coughs, and her eyes return to their regular-- well-- what they were before.

"What was that, Honey? I didn't catch that?" she asked, as if nothing happened. Luke shoots a death glare at her.

"Get on with it," he snaps.

"What-- oh, right. Luke, I give you my blessing," she says.

Luke walks towards the door, kicking as many things as he can before reaching the door. Then he looks back, glaring at his mother. **"Μάιος σήψης ψυχή σου για πάντα, ποτέ δεν την επίτευξη της ειρήνης. Σε μισώ," he says, and slams the door. The impact shakes the kitchen, shaking KoolAid pitchers, spilling their contents onto the white marble floor.

"Luke?"

* * *

She feels things are different, like an annoying gut feeling.

She knows what is to happen today, in her mind. She is not yet ready for it.

The clouds are dark, and thunder booms across the Connecticut sky. Her heart feels heavy, and somehow when her loving somewhat-husband Hermes flies by, it feels like it is weighing her down. She's on the ground now, on her knees, crying as Hermes delivers his horrible confirmation of what she had forseen those long years ago.

Her son-- her little boy-- her wonderful Luke-- is dead.

Now, inside, so is she.

And her son was right-- her soul never did make it to peace.

* * *

* "Curse you, mother."

** "May your soul rot forever, never reaching peace."


End file.
